


serendipitous things

by fthh



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Getting Together, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Shenanigans from having noisy neighbours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:55:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25248010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fthh/pseuds/fthh
Summary: If anything, Ingrid argues, she should be thankful for the combination of thin walls and loud noises from next door, honestly, Lysithea, if it weren't for that would she have gotten together with Annette?Yes, Lysithea grumbles exasperatedly. Yes, she would have. She's not a clueless idiot likesomepeople.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Lysithea von Ordelia
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	serendipitous things

Lysithea doesn’t get much sleep that night. It’s stupid, and she knows it is, that she’s twenty years old and these silly things still scare her, but here she is: clutching a pillow to her chest, facing the wall because weird  _ noises _ are coming from the other side of the faraway wall.

It’s just— it’s past midnight, and she doesn’t want to disturb Mercie or Leonie, so she tells herself it’s all okay. The ghosts are just…  _ unseen friends,  _ she tells herself unconvincingly. She just needs to get through the next… four? Five hours? Until the sun comes up and the ghosts, by ghost logic, will go away.

So, yeah, she doesn’t get much sleep that night.

.

She bumps into Ingrid exiting the next room as soon as she steps out of her door. Ingrid seems to be walking funny, and more importantly, she’s sporting similar eyebags.

Lysithea leans in closer. “Did the noises keep you awake as well, Ingrid?”

“Um.” Ingrid’s cheeks are suddenly a bright red as she rubs the nape of her neck. “Yeah. The noises. Didn’t sleep a wink.”

“Me too,” Lysithea says. “Weird. I wonder what disturbed them.”

“Them?”

“The…” Lysithea looks around, satisfied when nobody is there. It’s still only six, after all. “The ghosts. I wonder what made them so angry,” she whispers.

“Oh. Them. Uh.”

Lysithea taps her foot impatiently, and huffs when Ingrid stays silent. “Guess you don’t know too, huh?”

She goes to the dining hall before Ingrid can say anything.

.

She’s blasting little practice fireballs at a dummy when it all finally clicks into place. It comes as a rush, this understanding, this remembrance, this comprehension, that she accidentally throws a fireball at Dorothea, who thankfully dodges in time.

“Hey!”

“Sorry! Sorry about that. Accident!” Lysithea shouts to the other side of the courtyard.

“What’s wrong?” Dorothea asks, concerned.

“It’s just— Mercie’s room is next to mine, so why was Ingrid coming out of it at six in the morning, unless—  _ oh.  _ That woman owes me a whole crate of sweets.”

.

Lysithea glares at Ingrid as she approaches her own seat next to Annette. The redhead, at least, brings some peace to her day, unlike  _ some _ people, she grumbles.

“Aw, I’m glad to make your day better!” Annette says around a spoonful of peach sorbet. “Who’s  _ some _ people, though?”

“Some ghastly  _ apparitions  _ being rowdy next door. I couldn’t sleep at all last night.”

Annette’s eyes widen, and they remind Lysithea of saucers they have for tea-time. She watches for a second, wonders what colour Annette’s eyes actually are. They are blue, but not quite— grey? She’s not sure.

“G-ghosts? In Garreg Mach?”

“It’s probably nothing,” Lysithea stabs a piece of pheasant with her fork, misjudging her own strength. She  _ really _ needs sleep. “It’s probably gonna go away by tonight.”

“I hope so!” Annette says sincerely. “But if, you know, your problems persist, you’re more than welcome to room with me!”

She’s smiling so wide. Lysithea’s heart is about to beat out of her ribcage. That wouldn’t be a pretty sight, she thinks.

.

She  _ does _ get to sleep. It lasts a whole week before it comes crashing on a Saturday evening (evening! It’s barely seven! The audacity!) when she hears Mercie’s door slam shut and what’s probably Ingrid getting shoved against the wall.

Lysithea shudders at the thought.

She takes a pillow and runs straight to Annette’s room, not even bothering to knock. They’ve been in each other’s rooms so frequently it’s more of an extension of their spaces. It’s nice to share something so private to her.

“Hello, Lysithea,” Annette greets, looking up from her book. “The  _ ghosts _ are disturbing you again, are they?” She chuckles.

Lysithea glares at the general direction of Mercie’s room. “Yeah. I hope your offer still stands?”

“Of course! You know you’re always welcome here.”

When she smiles it’s like the sun is shining down on the room, blanketing it with a kind of warmth that gives you goosebumps, like coming out to the heat after being in the cold for so long.

This is trouble, and Lysithea knows it. She’s known it for maybe months. It’s just that— this timeframe is kind of rushed. She’d planned to say something maybe towards the end of the war, maybe before the battle facing The Immaculate One.

Here she is.

It was fine before: they’d spend time in each other’s rooms studying, mostly, one of them at the desk and the other on the bed. And that was fine. There was no touching involved, except when Annette insisted on brushing her hair to wind down.

And now?

They’re sleeping next to each other. The bed is impossibly small, so they have to lay on their sides. She’d volunteer to go back to her room, but Annette is all warm and welcoming and cosy and all the other things that Lysithea thinks  _ home _ should be, so she doesn’t say anything, only brushes away a stray lock of hair behind Annette’s ear.

She watches Annette’s eyes travel downwards.

Well. Life is short. No need to waste time and wait until they face a wrinkly old dragon to tell Annette how she feels.

“Can I kiss you?” She asks, barely above a whisper. She doesn’t need to say it so loud, with the lack of distance between them.

“Yes,” Annette answers, breathless. “Yes, please.”

She discovers, in this closeness between them, that she can find stormy skies in Annette’s eyes. She wouldn’t mind getting lost in them.

So she does.

Annette is warm, of course: anyone can see that. She kisses tenderly and softly, as if afraid to hurt Lysithea, so she presses further, making sure their bodies are flush against each other. One hand comes up to cup her cheek to keep her in place, and Lysithea doesn’t want to stop.

So they don’t, all night.

.

Ingrid sits in front of her, smug, but hisses a little when her butt touches the cushion. Lysithea scoffs.

“I heard from Mercie,” Ingrid whispers. “You and Annie, huh? Congratulations.”

“Shut up, Ingrid.”

“So, about those sweets you said I owe you,” Ingrid trudges on despite Lysithea’s frown, obviously wanting her to stop. “Wanna call it even? I mean, if it weren’t for me and Mercie and that sorry excuse they call walls, you and Annie wouldn’t be together, right?”

“Yes, actually,” Lysithea grumbles. “I had a plan and all that. And I  _ want _ those sweets. You will  _ not  _ take them away from me. I want to share them with Annie.”

She hurriedly walks away to make sure she gets the last word. Lysithea makes sure not to show that she is, indeed, smiling at the thought of getting Mercie’s sweets and bagging a girlfriend along the way.

No need to thank Ingrid.

**Author's Note:**

> me at 12:00AM: im gonna go to sleep :)  
> me at 12:01AM: sike
> 
> once again, after a silly conversation with [rocky](https://mobile.twitter.com/sadsambharsobs) and [yocto](https://mobile.twitter.com/yoctogram_) like... thanks for fueling my brain asdkjfhksjafdg
> 
> [x](https://twitter.com/clonebutt)


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